


ghosts that we knew

by makinggold



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Better Luck Next Time, F/M, Ghosts, this is me trying to write the spooky stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makinggold/pseuds/makinggold
Summary: Jaime Lannister did not believe in ghosts.And yet.(in which Jaime has a very strong connection with what he assumes is a ghost)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 80





	ghosts that we knew

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't planning on writing a fic for halloween, but then i read this brilliant fic by angel_deux and it got me in the spooky mood. (if you haven't read 'time to rest' yet, please go treat yoself!)
> 
> also, to all the lovely people who responded to 'you committed, i'm your crime' and asked for more, it is still coming soon, i promise. i just wanted to get this out first.
> 
> thanks to danie (thebothsandneithers) for helping me fix the garbage fire that i threw at you today.

Jaime Lannister did not believe in ghosts.

He used to, once. But he had left ghost stories back in his childhood after giving up on the possibility that they could in any way be true.

Young Jaime hadn’t been interested in spooky tales for the sheer fright of it, no. He had poured over them solely for the mention of the dead being alive again, even if just as a shadow of their former selves.

Having been ready to give anything in return for seeing his mother once more, he had explored different methods of calling upon ghosts and spirits.

He just _knew_ that something was out there, that if he only looked hard enough he could find it.

He was mocked and teased mercilessly for it, being called ‘freak’ and ‘witch’ and ‘weirdo’, but even those names, even being reprimanded by his father for indulging in such juvenile ideas, hadn’t stopped him.

One night he had thought he’d seen her – long, golden hair and a white nightgown calling to him through the crack in his door, whispering his name. But it was just his sister playing a joke on him. She could be as cruel as their father, sometimes.

He kept researching, but all his efforts had been in vain. He finally gave up when he was sixteen, tired of shouting into the void and not getting an answer.

So Jaime Lannister did not believe in ghosts.

And yet.

*

He had just woken from a fitful sleep, a nightmare he couldn’t quite remember still lingering on the edges of his mind. Movement caught his eye, and for the briefest of moments, he was sure he had seen a person standing by his window.

But it was a trick of the moonlight, of course. There was no other explanation.

He went back to sleep and didn’t think twice about the occurrence until two nights later.

He was working in bed with files strewn all over the blanket. His job was never finished and most nights it followed him home to his empty apartment of one. He always offered to take on the cases with the heaviest workloads, being one of the few lawyers at the firm who didn’t have a family or even a lover to distract him.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want either of those things, like he didn’t crave them desperately, but he just couldn’t open himself up to the possibility when he knew how it ended. Watching his father go through that – losing the love of his life – Jaime just couldn’t tip the scales in favor of pursuing love. It seemed pointless, throwing yourself wholeheartedly into a relationship, devoting yourself entirely to another person, only to lose them. Nothing, not even love, could last forever.

It was nights like these that he felt it most, the deep, aching loneliness. He couldn’t help but feel that something, a piece of him, was missing. But if he just focused on his work, he could block it out. And that’s what he had done.

He brought all the case files from the office, his briefcase bearing the weight of the accused’s crimes, and continued looking for something, _anything_ , to charge him on. He knew without a doubt that the man had killed those children and he needed to prove it, needed to get justice for the mothers who cried for the loss of their innocent babies. He had defended the wrong person once; he wouldn’t do it again.

He must have fallen asleep as he combed through the evidence for what seemed like the millionth time. He jolted awake – papers rustling as he moved – and placed all the stray files on his nightstand. He turned off the lamp and was about to return to dreamland when he saw it again, unmistakable this time.

The figure had appeared in the corner of his room, resplendent in what appeared to be armor of knights past. It was tall, certainly taller than he, and though the visor was covering the face, he could tell it was staring at him.

He felt like he should have been scared, but instead he was curious, shuffling unconsciously toward the edge of his bed, trying to get closer. Before his feet could hit the floor, however, it was gone.

Jaime turned the lamp back on and kept it on, unable to process what had just happened. It must have been a hallucination from sleep deprivation. That was the only way to rationalize it.

The strange thing, though, was that in the absence of the silhouette, Jaime felt that longing again, but this time in a different way entirely. It was an aching sort of longing for something he had lost, for something that could have been. The feeling was strange, this cold, sucking emptiness. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He was _craving_ , but what, he did not know.

He thought about the feeling the whole of the next day, from waking earlier than usual to walking to his building to withstanding yet another tedious meeting.

*

He warred with himself over whether what he saw was real or an imagined specter, not wanting to question his beliefs on the matter again after so long.

He couldn’t call it anything other than a ghost, though, when it kept showing up every night following that one.

It would stand there in the corner, sticking out amongst his modern and minimal decorating. It didn’t move, though he desperately wanted it to, for reasons unknown to him. Wanted it to approach him and, well, he wasn’t clear on the next part. But he knew it had something he needed.

He had tried reaching out, tried moving towards it, but every time he did it vanished almost immediately.

He was losing sleep, staring back as long as his eyes would stay open, silently willing it to come nearer.

His boss had commented on the bruises under his eyes, attributing them to long hours spent researching the case, and he didn’t correct her.

He couldn’t very well tell her that he was seeing a ghost every night. And he certainly couldn’t tell her that he wasn’t even scared of it, rather craved its presence.

The next night he saw it, he had had enough of this waiting and watching game. “Oh, just come over here already!” he shouted, exasperated. He hadn’t expected anything to change from their usual routine but to his surprise, the figure’s foot cautiously stepped out, the metal creaking with the movement, though the sound was distant. ( _Far away_ , he thought. _Still too far away_.) The other foot followed it and they repeated that motion until he was looking up at the imposing frame.

He did not expect that to work, and yet he mentally kicked himself for not having thought to just call upon it before tonight. If he had known that was all it took…

He finally got to see the armor up close, noting that it was midnight blue and not black like he had previously supposed. His eyes settled on the sword to the side, the lion pommel glinting in the moonlight, its design one he could’ve sworn he’d seen before. It was as if he could remember the weight of it in his hand, the metal singing as it sliced through the air.

“ _Oathkeeper_ ,” the figure said, softly, reverently. The word rattled inside his head seemingly stuck in an echo chamber and he finally realized that it was a _woman_ who had spoken it. Her voice was familiar, though he couldn’t quite place where he knew it from.

He reached a hand out, almost feeling the warmth of a body, but then she disappeared and his fingertips fell through empty air.

She didn’t show up the next night, or the whole week after, and he resigned himself to never seeing her again. Resigned himself to the empty feeling forever.

*

He wandered into the museum one day, not exactly sure why. It called to him somehow, pulling him off the busy sidewalk and into the grand lobby with its high gilded ceiling and pristine marble floor.

Looking around for something he wasn’t sure existed, he was drawn further into the palatial building. His feet led him as if they had a mind of their own, as if whatever he was moving towards was pulling him in by some magnetic force.

He was disoriented, confused, late for work.

Then he saw _her_.

She was leading a class of teenagers around but with the height disparity, they appeared more like toddlers. Her voice was confident and even-tempered, clearly in her element as she explained these artifacts of old to eager minds.

He was frozen in place and didn’t realize he had dropped his briefcase on the floor until the clatter forced her and the group to turn at once and stare. The students looked back to her soon enough, still enraptured in what she had been saying, but she was stuck staring at Jaime. They were at a standstill, neither moving toward each other, even though that was the only thing Jaime wanted to do. His feet, so intent on flying him across the floor before, now refused to budge.

He could see her talking to another employee and vaguely registered that boy continuing on with the group but he couldn’t focus on that when she was coming right at him.

She was so tall that the closer she got, he had to tilt his head up at her. He almost thought she was leaning in for a kiss – why would she kiss him, they had never met – but instead she bent down to pick up his forgotten briefcase and gingerly hand it to him.

He limply accepted it, not caring about the expensive leather case or important documents inside as he was too busy being entranced by her eyes. They were the most brilliant shade of blue. The kind of blue you saw on the horizon where the sky kissed the sea. Her eyes were locked onto his and he knew he could get lost in their depths if she’d let him.

Then she turned around and started walking away from him and his heart almost broke. (Why was she leaving him? What did he do?) It wasn’t until she paused and looked at him expectantly that he realized she had told him to follow her.

_Yes. Anywhere_ , he wanted to say. But he didn’t. Not yet.

She led him to a secluded wing, and when he looked around at where they had stopped, he saw it. Oathkeeper.

Suddenly it hit him all at once and all he could do was utter a single word.

“ _Brienne_.”

It was full of longing and pain and devotion, but most of all, love.

Her smile was bright enough to light entire cities. “Took you long enough,” she weakly joked, but he could see the desperation behind it, as if she was worried he wouldn’t find her.

It _had_ taken longer this time, hadn’t it?

“But I’m here now,” he said, apparently having been reduced to stating the obvious. She didn’t seem to mind, though.

Brienne ( _his Brienne_ ) let out a small chuckle, tears forming in her eyes. “You are.”

He could hold back no longer, surging forward to wrap her in his arms, his hands (because he had two again in this life, and wasn’t _that_ a weird thing to think about) automatically going to cradle her head. Her hair was still the same shade of sunshine yellow but now it was longer, flirting with the tops of her shoulders. He couldn’t fight the urge to run his fingers through the silky strands.

“ _Jaime_ ,” she whispered into his ear and it was like a plea and a confession all at once.

_Stay with me_ , it said.

_I love you_ , it said.

“I’m yours,” he said. He let his own tears spill down his cheeks as he finally kissed her. Lips crashing together, he finally found his missing piece. He pulled away for mere moments to utter the one thing that would always be true. “Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> surprise!


End file.
